"Hey there!"
"What?"
"Nothing, just wanted to get a response from you"
He turned the corner. The pavement was littered with concrete wrinkles characteristic of an urban landscape engineered on the ad hoc whim of town planners playing catchup to an unrelenting gentrification of an old ghetto, now forcibly hip, and ostentatious. Except for the pavement, a quiet bastion of honesty.
She threw her right shoulder against the rough inertia of the brick wall. A smile unfolded. The cheek, the audacity, the nerve. Ipod vibrates in left trouser pocket with a brevity suggestive of an SMS - her ex. Focusing on the space that delineated an absence of him she settles on taking in the ill-defined space that punctuated this ill-defined moment that will pass like many before, with a exaggerated mindfulness disproportionate to it's significance.
He walks on. Tomorrow they'll meet again, for more of it. For now, artichoke soup awaits. Cold hands find their way into warm jacket pockets.
9 minutes transpire.
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